


In All My Dreams (I Drown)

by nevermindgrantaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Enjolras, Other, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermindgrantaire/pseuds/nevermindgrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is the dramatic, red-coated Captain of the Musain, a pirate ship.<br/>Grantaire is a runaway of a higher class, fallen in with the wrong crowd and turning to the pirates for help.<br/>In the middle of a storm, Grantaire fights for her chance to stay on board the ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In All My Dreams (I Drown)

“Get in the cabin!” Enjolras roared, as the boat rocked heavily and Grantaire stumbled, her skirts and petticoats caught in the wind. Above, the sky churned and the clouds darkened and blotted out the sun. Cannon-thunder echoed across the huge expanses of sea on all sides, the merchant ship beside them swarming with men like flies over a honey pot. She flung her arm out, catching on a rope to keep her steady.

“Let me help!”

“I said get in the cabin!” Enjolras shouted, turning away from her to say something else to Combeferre. “You will be of no use to us if we are constantly checking to make sure that you’re alright.”

“But-”

Enjolras turned back to her, eyes darker than the sky above them with anger, and she shifted nervously. “You are a guest on my ship and I do not have to deal with you. I do not have to take you to shore before I put you off the boat. I could hand you over to them," Enjolras gestured wildly to the rapidly-nearing boat. "- without regret because at least then you would be safe and my crew would be safe. You like to imagine that you are of use to us. No matter how true that is, you will get nowhere in this crew if you do not obey me.” She flinched back as the voice rose in pitch to be heard above the din. “I am your captain and when I tell you to get in the cabin you will obey me, do you understand?!”

Grantaire looked at her captain for a moment, mouth falling open to respond, and then turned in a whirl to stumble into the captain’s cabin, slamming the door hard behind her. Outside, she could hear them, Enjolras and Combeferre, shouting orders. She imagined Enjolras muttering under their breath in irritation as per usual. She sat down on the bunk, shoulders shaking half in anger and half in panic. The candles hung from the ceiling rocked in time with the boat, rattling loud enough to wake the dead. Outside she could hear shouts, she could hear yells and her heart wrenched. She wanted to help them. Through the tiny window, she could see tiny Joly hurtling carrying messages through the ship and Enjolras, hair blowing across that perfect face and standing amongst the crew as they prepared to board. It frustrated her how little faith they had in her. No matter what she did, Enjolras wouldn’t let her learn how to fight and no matter how much the other crew members liked her or trusted her they would never dare to directly disobey their captain.

She squeezed her eyes shut, heart clasped with anxiety. If they lost, if the British navy found her… She couldn't go back. There was nothing in the room for her to defend herself, only a decorative sword hung on the wall. She stared at it for an instant and then took it down and held it in her hand to gauge the balance, then swung it a few times, imagining a dodge and a parry and a stabbing move… The boat lurched hard and she stumbled, face flushing as she realised how foolish she looked. A little kid playing at being pirates.

And that was how Enjolras made her feel. Like an embarrassed little kid caught pick-pocketing in the market, like a child who was far too old for silly games but still got caught pretending to ride a hobby horse. She dropped the sword down onto the cot, and ran back to the window, trying not to fall as the boat rocked violently.

She was… Happy, there, on board that ship. Oddly. She’d run away from the city, away from London, travelled as far away as she could, wound up in a port she’d never seen before, drunken and lost and with a roll of money that she couldn’t quite remember where it came from, though she knew that she’d do it again. When she saw Enjolras and the crew of the Musain in port, she’d half followed them, transfixed by the idea of joining them.  It hadn’t been easy, though it was the first boat that she’d found that wasn’t too superstitious to take on a woman. In fact, the Musain took on several women, working as first mates and carpenters and more. Eponine was the strongest with a cutlass, and she wore trousers and left her hair loose and hanging down her back- Grantaire liked her, though Enjolras didn't approve. It was bizarre, the polar opposite of the ladies embroidering sat at home. It made her laugh to think of what polite company would say about what she had done.

But when they’d learnt where she was from… The others hadn’t cared. They were from all over; Feuilly was an orphan on the streets, while Courfeyrac was the bastard son of some lord or other. But Enjolras had cared. Enjolras had taken her aside and said that it wasn’t right for a lady like her to act in that manner. That she was putting them in danger of repercussions from her father. That she wasn’t to put herself in danger, just in case.

Ugh. She put a hand over her eyes, the boat’s motion making her feel sick.

A cannon crack shook the deck again, and she closed her eyes, hands over her ears. Her father wouldn’t even recognise her now. None of them would. Her hands had roughened so much, the palms no longer lily white and delicate. There was no need of parasols to keep your skin pale when the only company you saw was pirates and ladies of the night and barmen.

She tried not to think of that, concentrating on what she could hear outside. Shouts and yells, occasional screams. Enjolras’ voice still barking orders, and then a crash of cannons again though whether it was them or the other boat she couldn’t tell. At every crash, a cloud of dust fell from the wood-plank roof.

She closed her eyes, knowing that there was nothing out there to answer her, and prayed that they’d still be afloat come sunset.

 

*****

 

It was agony waiting for the sounds of fighting outside to cease, and even worse waiting after the silence had settled.

Grantaire had bitten her nails down until they bled, anxiety crawling in her throat until Enjolras finally burst in through the cabin door.

“You’re here!” She blurted, stumbling unsure to them.

Enjolras nodded, made a kind of grunting sound, barely acknowledging her.

“Is everyone ok?”

“Everyone’s fine.”

“Oh, thank god.”

Enjolras laid out a map across the captain’s desk, running a hand over the surface. “We have to get moving.”

“What?”

“There will be reinforcements coming. We need to return to port.” The captain looked up. “You know what that means.”

“No.”

“Grantaire…”

“No! I won’t go back there. Please.”

“You will do as I say.”

Grantaire scowled. “As you are so fond of saying, I am not a member of your crew. You are not my captain.”

“I am your captain as long as you don’t want to swim your way back to port,” Enjolras hissed. “And you will be leaving this ship when we return. If you care about the crew as much as you say you do, you would go.”

“Captain…”

“You put them all in danger simply by being here. What if your father decides to look for you? Not only will we be tortured for piracy but we’ll be hanged for kidnap.” There was a pause- the Captain’s face twisted in pain slightly.

Grantaire’s hands fluttered uselessly at her sides. “Are you ok?”

“I’m… Fine. I’m fine.” Suddenly Enjolras doubled over, leaning with one hand on the desk- Grantaire threw out an arm as the ship lurched again. “Let go of me. I’m ok!”

“You’re clearly not.” Enjolras’ hand was pressed against their shoulder, blood seeking through their fingers at the pressure. “Fuck, you’re hurt!”

“You shouldn’t swear like that, it’s not polite.”

“Fuck you.” She took the Captain’s hand, pulling it away to examine the wound. _You don't mind Courfeyrac swearing_. “Lie down on the cot and I’ll have a look.”

“Get off, I’m fine.”

Grantaire glanced out at the deck, where limping figures loomed out of the rain and stumbling as the boat rocked. The ships doctors were hurtling around, feet skidding on the rain-and-salt-water-slicked floorboards. “Do you really want me to go get Joly or Ferre? Because I’m sure they’d come running if you were hurt. I’m sure you’d take priority over anyone else.”

Enjolras huffed, but obeyed, muttering grumpily. As the boat rocked again, they winced. Grantaire nodded, and moved to undo the buttons on the Captain’s waistcoat, and the cravat. But when she went to undo the buttons of the shirt, Enjolras slapped her hands away. “What are you doing?”

“I need to look at the wound, you know.”

“Can’t you just undo the collar?”

Grantaire looked at the Captain oddly. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you know.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure it is.” They wriggled, uncomfortable.

“What on earth do you mean?”

Enjolras looked at her steadily. Hands shaking, eyes boring into hers. “I suppose if you're leaving the ship soon...”

“I'm-" I'm not leaving, she started to say. "I won’t tell- whatever it is. Of course I won’t.” Grantaire bit her lip. “I want you to trust me.”

Enjolras nodded slowly, and moved their hand away from the wound to undo the buttons of their shirt, hands shaking in pain slightly. When the shirt dropped to the floor, they looked up at Grantaire defiantly, like they were daring her to react.

Grantaire took a breath. She blinked. Then she swallowed. “I see,” she said. Then she shook her head. “Sit down. Let me sort out your wound, and then we can…” She took another breath. “Talk about. All… that.”

“I’m not a girl.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Alright.”

“I’m not. I mean…” They took a breath. “I am. Sometimes. But not all the time. And it’s easier to just be a man most of the time than it is to be a girl all the time and…”

“It’s alright.” Grantaire pushed them back onto the cot, taking the bottle of brandy from the draw of the desk and dabbing it onto the wound as the Captain winced. “You don’t need to explain.” There was a long pause. “So…”

“What?”

“What do I call you? If you’re not a girl, and you’re not a man?”

Enjolras took in a sharp breath as she bumped at the cut clumsily.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“It’s ok.” They bit their lip at the pain- the cut was a sword wound, not too deep but long and thin, running across their shoulder and collarbone. “They, them, that kind of thing?” Grantaire nodded and gave them a smile, and took a cloth, pressing it to the wound. "But only... here. Not to the others."

With a thumb, she swiped away a smudge of blood on their collarbone. “See, it’s not so bad. It’s going to be healed in about a week.”

“I told you,” Enjolras muttered. “I told you I was fine.”

Grantaire sighed, suddenly incredibly tired, and yawned- Enjolras echoed it a moment later. “Go to sleep, get some rest.”

“I can’t. The crew need me out there right now.”

“They seem to be getting on fine without you right now. Have a break. You work so hard, Captain.” Kneeling on the floor beside the bed, she rested an arm on the Captain’s thighs and laid her head down over them. “Stay here, sleep. I know for a fact that you haven’t slept in days.”

Enjolras snorted. “That’s ridiculous. I sleep.”

“You close your eyes and fake-snore, and then when people stop looking you get up again.”

“I do not.”

Grantaire laughed. “I like you when you’re like this.”

“What?”

“Less… captain-like.” _Less shouty._

Enjolras snorted and stood up, their natural balance counterbalancing the sway of the ship as they reached for the bottle of brandy Grantaire had been using. “I’m meant to be captain-like. I am the captain. And I’m always vulnerable. I can’t stop working.”

Grantaire shook her head and shifted to sit on the edge of the cot. “Come here and sleep. They will all understand, Enjolras.”

Enjolras huffed and shook their head, and Grantaire stood and crossed over to them, reaching her hands up to untie their muddy-blonde hair from its ponytail. “I’m not tired.”

“You’re half asleep standing up.”

"Being nice to me won't stop me from putting you off the ship the first time we reach shore."

Grantaire blinked, flinching back. "Is that really what you think of me?"

Enjolras opened their mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"Enjolras, I care about you. I'm not just saying that so you let me stay."

They didn't reply, blonde head bowed.

"I need to stay."

"No you don't."

"Why not?" Grantaire snapped sharply. "Why not me? Because I'm a woman? Eponine is the strongest person on your crew! Because I'm born of wealth? Enjolras, Courf is the son of a lord. Surely he is more of a danger?"

Enjolras' jaw tightened. "Grantaire-"

"Please do enlighten me, because I'd love to know. Do you simply hate me?"

"I don't hate you, Grantaire."

"You do a wonderful job of showing that."

"I worry." Enjolras looked up at her for once. "I worry about you. I don't want to see you hurt."

She stopped. "What?"

"You have to know-"

"Enjolras. Don't-"

"You have to know that I..." Enjolras took a breath, rubbing a hand over their forehead. "I hold you in very high regard. I know... that this kind of life is rough. I would not have you subjected to it while you have other options."

Grantaire shook her head. "I have no other options."

"You can return to your fathers. You can-"

"I can't." Grantaire shook her head. "I can't."

Enjolras shook their head. "You are a distraction, Grantaire. I find myself unable to concentrate."

Grantaire frowned.

"I-" They stopped. "I have to be able to focus. I have to be able to-"

Grantaire tilted her head to the side, her brow still furrowed. She raised a hand, her forefinger brushing across Enjolras' jawline and they stuttered into silence. "Unable to concentrate? That is hardly my fault."

Enjolras' mouth moved, but couldn't seem to form words- they swayed forward a little as if unsure.

"Enjolras? Say something to me." Grantaire smiled at the cliche of her words.

They took a breath, looking away for a moment, and then reached their arms around her waist, pulling her close. "I don't think-"

"Don't think. Just... rest."

Enjolras buried their face in her shoulder, breathing in the smell of warmth and salt and smoke. The tiredness hits in waves and drains them endlessly, but Grantaire holds them up, murmuring half-formed words that border on desperate. They sigh. "Stay with me."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this is ok!!


End file.
